


Those peripheral idiots always have a bite to bare

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, First Kiss, Gradually things happen, M/M, Pack Feels, Pre-Slash, stiles makes friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead he’d be weeding city flower beds and mowing road shoulders and removing wasp nests--was he ever properly tested for a wasp allergy?  </p>
<p>Sheriff Stilinski just shrugged and recommended he not get stung so they wouldn’t have to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those peripheral idiots always have a bite to bare

As if there wasn’t enough to worry about in Beacon Hills with the impending arrival of the Alpha Pack, worrying about the aftermath of Boyd and Erica’s dealings with them and dealing with the general fallout from, well, everyone’s confrontation with Gerard Argent, Stiles’ dad got the idea in his head that Stiles needed something to occupy his time over the summer so he wouldn’t get into anymore trouble.

Oh right, his dad was still in the dark about everything so Stiles couldn’t say a damn word about it. His dad pulled some strings and got him on the city maintenance crew with a few other summer workers, mainly college students home for break, so at least he’d be outside during his vacation. ‘Cause it’s not like Stiles needed to be able to research or look up info on the computer or be able to supply details from one of the dozens of books he kept stashed in his room on the best way to take out a rogue faerie or whatever happened to be causing shit at the moment.

Noooooo. Instead he’d be weeding city flower beds and mowing road shoulders and removing wasp nests--was he ever properly tested for a wasp allergy? 

Sheriff Stilinski just shrugged and recommended he not get stung so they wouldn’t have to find out.

Great.

\----------------------------------------------

"Every day? That sucks, dude!" Scott exclaimed while they studied for finals in Stiles’ room. One good thing about Scott and Allison breaking up is that Stiles had a study buddy again. The bad thing about Scott and Allison breaking up is that the task of keeping Scott on task of actually studying fell to Stiles again and he _really_ didn’t want to hear about how Allison would motivate him to study _again_.

"You're working every day, too," Stiles pointed out.

"But Deaton-"

"We can't all be lucky enough to work at a job where the boss knows your biggest secret, dude. There’s kind of a shortage of supernatural creature-friendly employers in this town, if you haven’t noticed.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Dick. You know what I meant. Derek might not be happy about this.”

“Yeah? Well then Derek can take it up with my dad.” Scott snorted at the thought of that scenario and used the moment as an opportunity to explain to Stiles how he’d like to confront Chris about Allison. 

Yeah.

\----------------------------------------------

That settled that. But Scott was right, Derek wasn’t all too pleased.

Stiles knew Derek was aware that he had a job for the summer, an honest-to-goodness 9 to 5, or it would be if his hours weren’t more dictated by the hours of sunlight in the day. Sometimes his shifts were more 7 to 9, after which Stiles went home, showered, and collapsed into bed as soon as he could so he could wake up to do it all again the next day.

He had a daily half hour lunch break that he brought a brown-bag lunch for. Since they were usually out and about all over Beacon Hills lunch was usually eaten while sitting on the tailgate of one of the city maintenance trucks, or while sitting on his giant John Deere industrial lawn mower or, once, unknowingly right next to an anthill that quickly was rewarded with the contents of said lunch because he threw it to the ground while jumping and shrieking (in a manly way, of course), trying to get them off.

It wasn’t his finest moment.

It didn’t leave much time for Pack needs or activities. He sent his books back to the house with Scott in case they needed them for whatever research when he wasn’t available with express instructions that Peter be the one to look after them. Peter was crazy, sure, but at least he knew how to look after things.

He made up a quick and dirty cheat sheet for the best sites and web resources for the Pack to use when they needed. Stiles tried to show Derek how to navigate some of them on Peter’s computer but he wasn’t the most tech-savvy of the bunch so Stiles did what he could.

Stiles was glad nothing major came up during his first week because damn, Stiles was _not_ cut out for manual labour and he was exhausted every night. If anything this job showed him quickly that he was going to do well in his last two years of high school so he could get into a good program in college and earn a good living at a blue collar job. Yes.

By the end of the week he also had a killer sunburn. Despite putting on sunscreen it clearly wasn’t screening enough because he was tomato red after an ill fated decision to take his shirt off like the other guys on a particularly hot Wednesday afternoon. By Friday he was a tight, itchy mess trying to use a can of useless aloe spray under his t-shirt every other minute, so much so that it looked like he was bleeding green by mid-morning and his shirt was just sticking to him in an uncomfortable way.

One of the girls, Jen, took pity on him at lunch time and ran to a drugstore near the park they were maintaining that day to get a different brand of sunburn cream and then spread it over his back for him. His shirt was bunched around his neck and he was sure he looked like a total dumbass with a temporarily relieved look on his face when Derek pulled up in the Camaro. Stiles registered the rumbling from the motor but not that it was Derek for a few seconds until he heard a short honk, looked up and Derek was staring at him over the rims of his sunglasses with an expectant look on his face.

Stiles flushed, hopefully unnoticed under his red skin, and stood up awkwardly. “Thanks Jen. Uh, I’ll be right back.” He walked across the lawn to the curb and leaned over into the passenger side window.

“You’re burned,” Derek said by way of a greeting.

Stiles touched the side of his nose and grinned. “Nothing gets by you.”

Derek didn’t grin back but grunted, “You should be more careful.”

“Aww, worried about my potential for melanoma, thanks Derek!”

“Shut up. Do you remember where you found the information about where the rarer forms of wolfsbane originate from?” Derek asked flatly.

“Probably somewhere online? I’m sure a simple google search would have turned that up for you. Or Scott could have asked Deaton.”

“He’s at a conference,” Derek replied, getting testy.

“You could have texted him?” Stiles countered, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll do that next time, then,” Derek replied in a way that sounded a lot like an embarrassed ‘fuck you’. “You coming to the meeting tonight?”

Stiles sighed and shrugged his shoulders, then grimaced and mentally slapped himself. “I’m going to try. I might just go home and soak myself in aloe or something.”

“You should be there if you can.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to balance this as best I can, what with my full-time job and all. Know what that’s like?” Stiles snapped back but immediately he shook his head and groaned. “Sorry, didn’t mean that. I’m tired and hot and burned and sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek replied. “It’s only your first week, it’ll get--”

“Stilinski! Haul ass, dude. We’re back in it,” one of his co-workers called to him from inside the park. 

“I have a new appreciation for TGIF,” Stiles groaned. “I’ll see you later, promise.”

Derek didn’t get a chance to reply before Stiles pushed himself away from the car and started walking back to the rest of the crew, gingerly pulling his t-shirt back on the right way. He didn’t notice the way Derek winced at the angry red colour of his back and then, as his gaze dropped a bit lower, how his eyes opened wide at the sharp line of pale skin versus burned. Stiles’ shorts were slung low on his hips, revealing the band of his boxers and as he walked away Derek kept staring at the peach strip that he was sure would feel smooth under his tongue.

Derek pulled away from the curb with a screech of his tires that Stiles didn’t even register.

\----------------------------------------------

Stiles quickly became thankful that the Stilinksi family was never a gardening bunch because he really, _really_ hated weeding. Weekly visits to the city flower beds to keep them clean and uniform was the bane of his job, he was sure. It was tedious, boring, back-and-knee breaking on the best of days and he was constantly brushing those damn ants away.

The other people he worked with turned out to be pretty cool, though. That made the job a bit easier and they didn’t give him any grief for being the only high school kid on the crew. One guy, Kyle, was going to UC Berkley so Stiles gave him the third degree in trying to learn what he was taking, what campus life was like, how the whole _experience_ was.

Jen, the girl that helped him with his sunburn the first week, was a funny, sweet person who put up with Stiles’ incessant chatting and could give back as good as him on her good days. But when they all had to be on shift by 7am some days, they all had their moments.

One thing led to another and someone would bring ‘sorry’ donuts or ‘I’m a dick’ coffee and that graduated to tentative plans to meet up outside of work for coffee or a movie or _something_ after hours that inevitably would conflict with Pack plans. By the fifth week Stiles had bailed so many times the group purposely tricked him into finding out the best time they could all go out together and gave him a no ifs-and-or-butts ultimatum to meet them for a movie that Friday night or they’d stick him in one of the city planters- the ground workers’ equivalent of a swirly, it seemed.

Stiles relented, agreed to go, and realized immediately that he was looking forward to it. It was a relief to have plans to do something _normal_. Plans that didn’t involve the words blood, tactical, crossbows, bites, or hunters. Plans that instead involved the possibility of a meal in a public place. As in _outside the underground cavern_. If Stiles were slightly more dramatic and the crew would have the slightest idea why he was reacting that way he’d practically swoon like Scarlett O’Hara.

Friday night was actually perfect timing because it was a full moon so the Pack would be doing their own thing and Stiles, Lydia and Allison were all ordered to stay away, stay inside and stay safe. Stiles figured inside a movie theatre would be sufficient and he didn’t even bother to mention to anyone that he had plans. 

On Fridays the crew tried to get through their work as quickly as they could so they could be done at least on time. Stiles rushed home and showered quickly, washing away grass clippings and the smell of bug repellent and sunscreen. It’s not like anyone was going on a date tonight but he wore something a little nicer, khaki shorts and a button down he hadn’t worn in months and felt pretty good showing up to the diner the group was meeting at before the movie.

Kyle was already there with Jen, saving a booth, and he waved to Stiles as soon as he arrived. Stiles grinned and joined his new friends, sliding along the vinyl seat beside Kyle.

“You clean up good,” Jen joked, elbowing him. Stiles grinned and punched Kyle lightly on the arm.

“You guys don’t look so bad yourself.”

They made idle chit chat for awhile, waiting for the others to show up before they ordered. Stiles was just enjoying having a conversation unrelated to werewolves or anything of the sort so he should have known better than to think that at all because there was someone clearing their throat and Stiles knew it was for him.

“Uh... hey,” Stiles said slowly as he stared up at Derek, who was carrying a big paper bag. Stiles checked his watch quickly. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be here?”

Derek was too busy staring at Kyle to answer right away so Stiles cleared _his_ throat and slid to the end of the booth seat. “Something I can help you with, Derek?”

Stiles could feel Kyle’s discomfort behind him and, really, who wouldn’t be a bit unnerved by a six foot guy all in black and leather and black leather with criminal-looking stubble (as in prisoner, not criminally hot and what the fuck, Stiles, priorities here) and a damn-near hateful look on their face trying to drill a hole into their skull? Stiles tried to get out of the booth as smoothly as possible, which wasn’t very, and shoved at Derek until he turned away.

“Be right back, can I get another Coke?” Stiles said over his shoulder to Kyle and Jen as he hustled Derek out of the diner.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Stiles practically yelled once they were outside in the parking lot, walking to Derek’s car. “Jesus Christ, Derek, you were raised _by_ wolves, not _like_ a wolf.”

Derek whipped around, eyes flashing dangerously, and growled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Stiles felt his face get red and if he was able to shift into something else he’d be well on his way by now, too. “It means I know you know how to act in public around _people_! Start!”

“Who is he?”

“A friend! You don’t need to know any more than that!” Stiles replied angrily, knowing he was just making the situation worse by acting like he was hiding something but he didn’t care.

“I told you to stay inside tonight,” Derek snarled back.

“I’m going to be inside. Inside public places with people who don’t have to worry about this bullshit!” Stiles curled his hands into fists and held them at his sides to keep himself calm or to be ready to (try to) punch Derek if it came to that--he wasn’t sure which.

“You’re free to leave any time,” Derek said, voice dropping. “You’re not Pack, after all.”

Stiles took a step back, as if Derek had thrown the first blow instead, and his mouth dropped open.

Suddenly the air between them was very, very different. All the anger was gone, the rage behind Derek’s eyes faded, and Stiles felt himself deflate. It was just awkward and tense and fucking _painful_ because Derek hadn’t said anything untrue.

Derek reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a take out container from the diner. He shoved it at Stiles who accepted it jerkily. “Here. I figured you’d be by in the morning after the shift and I bought everyone something.”

Derek turned on his heel, got in his car and drove out of the parking lot with his tires screeching, leaving Stiles behind, holding cooling curly fries.

\----------------------------------------------

The night went off without a hitch. 

By the time Stiles got back inside the diner a couple other people were in the booth, too. Kyle shot him a look with an unspoken question but Stiles just nodded and shrugged to show everything was okay. 

Even though it really, really wasn’t.

Dinner was okay, the movie was good and Stiles laughed when he was supposed to. He put on a damn good show right up until he closed his front door and turned out the porch light his dad left on for him.

He navigated his way through the house, up the stairs and to his room in the dark. He didn’t bother turning on the light, his computer or the lamp. He dropped his clothes on the floor and flopped into bed, even though it was only just after midnight.

He didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

\----------------------------------------------

Scott texted Stiles early Saturday morning. Stiles didn’t text back.

Lydia tried to call before noon. Stiles let it go to voice mail.

Kyle texted Saturday afternoon. Stiles left his phone in his room and went to hang out downstairs with his dad.

Scott tried to call in the evening. Stiles deleted all the messages and voicemails, turned off his phone and turned in early.

\----------------------------------------------

Sunday morning when he turned his phone back on Stiles already had a new text message.

_Please come over,_ was all it said.

Stiles sighed and got himself out of bed to shower and dress.

\----------------------------------------------

Even without preternatural abilities Stiles could tell the train depot was empty because generally if there was more than one werewolf inside there was way more noise, arguing, smashing and otherwise general ruckus.

Derek was sitting on a milkcrate reading a book in the middle of the room and didn’t even look up when Stiles descended the stairs without announcing himself. It’s not like he didn’t already hear Stiles arriving as soon as the jeep entered the industrial park.

Stiles grabbed an old chair with a ripped up back and positioned it kitty corner to Derek and sat down like they were just two guys chilling. Oh, if only.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Derek said without looking up. Stiles could tell he wasn’t really reading at that point but he was avoiding Stiles’ gaze.

“But you did,” Stiles replied, apparently still smarting from Friday’s argument. “You wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.”

Derek looked up then, shocked. “Yes, I would, Stiles. You-- you...”

“What? I what?”

Derek shoved up to his feet, dropping the book to the floor. “You don’t know how much we rely on you. How much _I_ rely on you. It’s... difficult.”

“To rely on people?”

“On you.”

“Oh.” And once again Stiles felt like Derek slapped him in the face.

“Not like that,” Derek groaned. “I just. You’re... you’re human.”

“Right,” Stiles replied slowly. He waited patiently for Derek to find his words to continue.

“You don’t have any fear. You put yourself on the line, you run yourself ragged, you--you’re fucking _bait_ half the time!. You do it even though you could walk away at any point. Over and over but it’s only when you’re not around that we notice it.” Derek paced back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching as he spat his words out.

Stiles pressed his lips together and tried to work out if Derek was saying something good or bad. “I... don’t know what to do with this except to think you guys take me for granted?”

“Exactly!” Derek growled.

“Okay. Uh, explain more. Usually the for-granteders don’t think too much about the for-grantedees.”

“Again, exactly! I don’t want you to think we do that. It wasn’t until you weren’t around that I realized how much we turn to you for _everything_. It’s not right.”

“But it is. I _want_ to. I have a very vested interest in everything that happens here, remember. Hometown and best friend and potential for my dad to be involved. Plus, all of you guys, too,” Stiles explained.

“So you’re not looking for a new pack?” Derek asked casually, although there was a hopeful tone that belied his intent.

“A new pack? What are you talking about?”

“Friday you were with those people when you were supposed to be inside.”

“Those are my co-workers, Derek,” Stiles said exasperatedly. “We were hanging out. You know, like friends do when they don’t have to worry about training or learning how to handle weapons or stakeouts or--”

“I get it,” Derek cut him off.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Derek cocked his head and Stiles just shrugged. "Sometimes I miss human time. And no," Stiles continued, as if Derek tried to argue back. "Allison’s been in this longer than she realized and Lydia doesn't count. She's just as involved as I am. She knows too much to be..." Stiles waved his hand around trying to find the right word.

"Regular?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't trade any of this for anything, you know, not now. But sometimes I miss when Scott and I would go to the movies or hang out playing Xbox or, fuck, even muddling through homework. It's not the same anymore. Those people think I'm just Stiles Stilinski, son and above-average student trying to make some money over the summer. It's a nice change, for once."

"Stiles, I get it. It's fine.” Derek swallowed hard. “ You should be allowed to have friends outside the pack."

"I know, exactly," Stiles snapped back, defensively, before he sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Sorry. I guess I'm dealing with reverse abandonment issues or something. I just don't want you to think I'm trying to find an out. Or..."

"Or?"

"That I'm creating any."

Derek's eyes knitted together in confusion for a second before he rolled his eyes. "Stiles, we're not going to get rid of you. If I haven't yet I doubt we could shake you any easier anyway. I shouldn’t have said what I said. You are 100% pack, even if you make a million friends outside of our group. I’m sorry."

That answer seemed to satisfy Stiles because he grinned back at Derek and clapped his hands as he stood up. "Don't you forget it, either. I don’t want to keep having this argument every time I piss you off because I’m going to remember this moment. In fact, I’m gonna go home and write it in my diary right now. ‘Dear Diary, today Derek Hale actually deigned to apologize for something he was _wrong_ about." 

Derek scowled at that but he didn’t say anything because Stiles wasn’t wrong. Stiles grinned and started to walk away. He was almost to the stairs when Derek called out to him.

"Hey Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"I like going to movies, too."

Stiles paused, then wheeled back around. "Huh?"

"I'm just saying. If you sometimes need a human experience, well, I like movies, too." Derek was standing a little off centre, as if his hip was out of place, looking incredibly awkward.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Name the last thing you saw at the cineplex."

"Uh, _Iron Man 2_?" Derek replied sheepishly, prompting a weird snort gasp from Stiles.

" _Iron Man_?!"

"Two!" Derek insisted, defensively.

"I can’t even with that information right now, okay? I'm holding you to the offer, dude. That's crazy. We're getting you out of this hole more often. Later!"

Stiles bounded up the stairs and out of sight before he could see the small smile play over Derek’s lips.

\----------------------------------------------

Kyle and Jen didn’t bring up Derek on Monday, which was awesome. Stiles wasn’t sure how to explain Derek and “possessive friend” didn’t seem like it would cut it.

“Possessive ex, maybe,” Stiles muttered to himself as he raked up fallen pine cones under some park trees.

“You say something, Stilinski?” One of his co-workers asked from nearby.

Stiles flushed and let out a bark of harsh laughter. “Just talking to myself. Crazy!”

Crazy didn't even begin to explain it.

\----------------------------------------------

“Any other business that needs to be brought to attention?” Derek asked, signalling the end of the Pack meeting because invariably no one ever had anything to bring up that Derek didn’t already know about and had already addressed. Everyone shook their heads and stretched, before heading to what counted as the kitchen area for the post-meeting snacking.

Stiles rubbed his eyes wearily and groaned when he stood up, rotating his shoulders to loosen them up some. Today the staff planted trees in the parks, which sounded all well and good at first, save the environment and shit, but after planting fifty of them all over the goddamn city he would be just as pleased to never see a sapling again.

“I’m heading out, guys,” Stiles called on his way out, not even bothering to pause because someone would inevitably whine and drag him back, ‘just for a second’ and he totally didn’t have one of those to spare tonight.

He escaped up the stairs easily because all the Betas were busy stuffing their faces and Lydia and Allison were probably just trying to stay clear of the melee. Their Alpha, however, was quicker and, Stiles had to admit, smarter than they were, having observed Stiles’ recent post-meeting routine for the past few weeks.

“Stiles.”

Stiles jumped as he stepped outside, clutching a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Derek!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”“Startle me. You don’t scare me anymore.”

Even in the dim of the barely-there light through the approaching night Stiles could see Derek roll his eyes. “Whatever.”

“What’s up?”

“What?”

“What did you need to talk to me about? Remember, accosting me outside the door, trying to give me a heart attack, all that?” Stiles gestured with his hands, suddenly nervous. 

Derek shuffled a bit. “How are you?”

“How am I?”

“Yes?”

“Uh, okay? As much as it pains me to say it I’m looking forward to the end of break, just so I can get back to a regular routine,” Stiles laughed, realizing how weird that sounded. 

“A regular routine of werewolves and their problems?” Derek asked, smiling as well.

“Pretty much. After all, I want to keep up my place in the pack,” Stiles said with mock seriousness and a wink so Derek would really know he was joking. 

“Yeah,” Derek replied, somewhat sheepishly, obviously still feeling bad but he didn’t dwell on it. “So, uh, the movies.”

“As in what you haven’t been to in a criminally long time?” 

“Right, those. Do you maybe want to go? When you’re done work, I mean?” Derek clarified.

“Sure, we’d have to find something we all want to see, though. That could be hard so maybe we should vote or you just pick something and that’d be that,” Stiles said thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his chin.

“Who’s we?” Derek asked dumbly.

“The Pack?” 

“Oh, right.”

Stiles blinked. “Were you asking just me to the movies?”

Derek shifted and pressed his lips together in a line. “I thought so. But if you don’t want to, I understand. It’s fine.”

“No!” Stiles practically yelled. “I mean, I get it. Lydia and Jackson would be making out, and so would Erica and Boyd. Scott would be talking through the whole movie about what would happen if Allison were there with us and Isaac would probably sit in the middle of us and hog the popcorn.”

Derek snorted but nodded. “Exactly.”

“So it would be like one-on-one Alpha-human Beta bonding time?” 

Derek opened and closed his mouth before shrugging. “I guess, yeah. If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“Okay. I’m in. Text me when you figure out what you want to see and it can be like a ‘Stiles is finally kinda free’ celebration or something.”

“Sounds good. Go home, get some sleep.” Derek awkwardly squeezed Stiles’ arm and sent him out into the night, trying not to pay attention to how firm Stiles’ bicep was under his grip.

\----------------------------------------------

Before Stiles knew it eight weeks went by and his summer term with the city was coming to a blissful end. The financial compensation was nice, for sure, but he was happy to have a few days of summer, at least. His dad was happy because Stiles, indeed, managed to stay out of trouble and the Pack was happy because he could finally start coming to regular meetings and training again and Stiles was just happy that his life was getting back to normal.

He pondered that a lot, normal being a life where sudden werewolf-related emergencies was common place and doing manual labour was the oddity. What was his life?

_Hey, if you’re still up for that movie I found one I think we’ll both like_ Derek texted him during his last week working.

_Sounds good. Pack meeting Friday, so movie Saturday?_ Stiles knew Derek couldn’t see him but he tried to downplay his reaction, which was somewhere between a thrill down his spine and click of his heels.

_Sure._ One word, simple commitment. Stiles let out a whoop and danced around in a circle with his rake, barely drawing weirded out looks from his co-workers, not long used to him.

\----------------------------------------------

Saturday came quickly. Stiles finished his last shift on the Beacon Hills summer crew with promises to keep in touch and to email Kyle with any questions about UC Berkley. The Pack meeting went fine, although Stiles couldn’t keep his leg from jiggling through the whole thing which drew a pointed look from Derek but Stiles just shrugged. 

He wasn’t about to let Derek know it was about their movie the next night, not to give up that information to him, let alone to the rest of the Pack for _reasons_. Most of them being that he in no way wanted to share their movie date--no, movie period with anyone else. 

That was normal, right?

Derek kept the meeting short but didn’t linger with Stiles and no one else thought any different. Stiles grabbed a slice of after-meeting pizza and studiously avoided Derek’s eyes. He made plans with Scott and Isaac practice lacrosse the next day, threw some heatless barbs at Jackson and laughed at Erica trying to tickle Boyd.

For the moment the Pack--his Pack--was good.

\----------------------------------------------

Stiles slept in, ate a late brunch with his dad, went to the high school field as planned. The no werewolf powers rule was in play but he was sure Scott was cheating, at least. Didn’t matter to him too much because as the afternoon went on Stiles realized he did well. He felt stronger, maybe a little faster. Maybe manual labor wasn’t so bad, after all.

He gave a vague excuse that he was busy to Isaac and Scott before he took off and only realized once he was pulling into his driveway and noticed that his dad’s cruiser missing that he was going to be late.

“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date,” Stiles muttered to himself as he rushed up the stairs to his room, pulling his sweaty shirt over his head as he did. He burst through his room, in the process of tucking his fingers under the band of his shorts to pull them down when he noticed Derek sitting on his bed, thumbing through a book.

Stiles let out a squeak he would swear was dignified and fell back against the wall. “Derek, Jesus!”

“Sorry for _startling_ you,” Derek said with a smile on his lips.

“Ha ha,” Stiles replied, rolling his eyes. “Nice to know you can- what?”

Stiles watched Derek’s eyes look him up and down, pausing on his chest before sliding down to where his shorts were hanging precariously on his hips. The burn from the first week had faded into a brown, even and warm on Stiles’ normally pale skin, but there was still that damn line between the tanned flesh and where the sun literally didn’t shine.

Stiles watched Derek rise up, drop his book and cross the room to him without moving. Derek crowded in close to him, close enough to see the individual droplets of sweat that were pooling along Stiles’ collarbone and in the hollow of his throat from practice.

“Something wrong?” Stiles asked thickly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips that were suddenly dry.

Derek leaned in even closer, ghosted his nose across Stiles’ skin and his hands over his waist. Stiles could feel his heart beating so hard that he was sure his chest was thumping visibly.

“You have a lot of freckles,” Derek finally said, bringing his eyes up to meet Stiles’.

“Uh... yeah. The burn and... stuff,” Stiles croaked.

“You smell like summer,” Derek whispered, his eyes wide and wild.

“That’s neat,” Stiles managed a second before he tilted his head up and brushed his lips against Derek’s. Derek made a sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a whine and a grunt, and pushed closer, pressing Stiles against the wall. 

Their kiss was slow and exploratory, with Derek keeping his hands on Stiles’ hips, rubbing his thumbs over the slight definition of his abs, something Stiles didn’t really realize he was getting until that very moment.

Manual labor was _awesome_.

\----------------------------------------------

“So, about the movie,” Derek started as they walked up to the theater.

“Yeah?” Stiles was showered and changed, wondering how they managed to make it out of his bedroom, in all honesty, but walking beside Derek with their arms brushing was nice, too.

“We might not exactly be going alone.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, then to the front of the building where five other werewolves and a human were standing, staring back at them.

“How-”

“Erica has no sense of privacy for people or for electronic communication devices,” Derek replied louder than normal even though she would have heard him at his regular tone. Erica, at least, had the good sense to look somewhat contrite but she winked at Stiles once they approached.

“You guys,” Stiles sighed. “Are sitting on your own. Got it?”

\----------------------------------------------

By the end of the movie Isaac had taken the rest of their bucket of popcorn and was sitting behind them, Scott was texting Stiles every three minutes about Allison, Boyd and Erica were making out at the end of their row and Jackson and Lydia were doing the same, although with more hair flipping a few rows ahead and to the left.

“Sorry,” Derek whispered, leaning over so his breath tickled Stiles’ ear at one point.

Stiles shrugged and grinned back, letting his head bump softly against Derek’s. “I don’t think I really expected anything different. And that’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> So the starting point of this fic came from here (NSFW), and then from this one (not much better). I couldn’t get the tan lines out of my head and it spawned this story which did NOT end up how I thought it would and thusly I don’t know if it makes any sense at all.
> 
> A lot of things got neglected along the way and I acknowledge that but I tried to keep things as focused as I could, LOL.
> 
> I’d love to work on it longer but it’s my submission for beacon_hills over on LiveJournal for their Tell Me a Story challenge. Once I started writing I wanted to see this through, as well, and here it is.


End file.
